Precipitous Departures
by ShadowSpires
Summary: Werewolf AU. JayTim. /This is nothing, his mind said. Do it. It is a mercy. Inside, his heart was screaming. His fault, his fault, he had caused this, his inadequacy had doomed the one he loved most to a tortured, cursed, monstrous existence./


Tim stared at the huge wolf before him, long-dagger fangs and glowing eyes. His mind whirled frantically, forming and discarding plan after plan.

Tim's gun was loaded with silver bullets, and his hand was rock steady as he aimed his gun at the creature's head. One bullet to the head, to stop the wolf in it's tracks, one to the heart to finish the kill.

He knew the protocol. It had been his life since he had lost his parents to the things that hunted the night, and had found a place in the home of the hunter who had killed the creature that had killed his parents.

_This is nothing, _his mind said. _Do it. It is a mercy._

Inside, his heart was screaming. His fault, his fault, he had caused this, his inadequacy had doomed the one he loved most to a tortured, cursed, monstrous existence.

He looked into the glowing eyes. Still that familiar, beloved shade of blue, just _more_. So much more than Tim could have even imagined, seeming to shine with impossible love even now.

He couldn't extinguish that glow, not even if it meant his death.

The gun slowly lowered to point to the ground, then fell from nerveless fingers to thump against the ground. His knees buckled and he followed the path of the weapon, unheeding of the sharp rock that sliced through his pants to raise blood red and hot on his leg. His hands hung loosely at his sides, tears pooling and spilling from eyes still locked on glowing blue.

The wolf's ears went back, but there was no aggression in his posture. He slunk closer, tentative, but seemed to gain confidence when Tim didn't shrink back from him.

The wolf's head lowered and Tim tipped his head back with no fear as the huge creature snuffled at his neck, and then wuffed happily at the scent of him, flopping down with a thump and curling up against him, heat radiating off him.

Tim sat stunned for a moment, before he buried his hands in the rough-soft ruff at the wolf's neck and bent to tuck his face into the warm fur.

"Oh Jason," Tim whispered. The wolf's ears pricked at his name, and he looked sorrowfully up at Tim, guilt practically radiating from him at the anguish in Tim's voice. "What are we going to do?"

Bruce would never be able to accept this, no matter how different Jason seemed from the others they hunted. They were hunters. They knew the danger they faced every night, the risk of infection. They knew that if one of them was bitten, it was imperative to put them down immediately, before they lost themselves to the bloodlust of the moon.

Jason didn't seem lost to him. He was still himself, somehow, Tim was convinced of that. If Jason were truly lost he would have killed Tim without a moment's hesitation. Not curled up around him and gazed up at him with worry palpable even through that lupine expression.

"What are we going to do?" Tim repeated to himself, trying to force his stunned brain into action. They couldn't hide this. Tim may have found out first, may have been able to make it out here before the others, but that wouldn't last.

Jason shifted as if he was going to stand and walk away, back into the forest, out of Tim's life, away from the choice his presence must force Tim to make. His mate was hurting. He didn't know why, not exactly, but he knew he was the cause. If he could not make it better, he must leave, and remove the cause of his mate's pain.

"No," Tim said firmly, tightening his hands on Jason's ruff, and throwing a leg over the still-reclined body, knowing that his slight weight could never keep Jason down even in his human form, but unwilling to let him go. "It's not your fault."

Jason whined deep in his throat, shifting more, but Tim held firm. They would have been an amusing picture in any other situation; Tim refusing to relinquish his ineffectual grasp, and Jason refusing to risk hurting Tim by employing his greater strength to pull away.

"It's not!"

Tim had never really allowed himself to think about the possibility that Bruce might be wrong, might be blinded by his mission, by his grief and hate. If Bruce was wrong, they all were wrong. If they were wrong about the things they had been hunting…

How many innocent beings had they killed over the years?

Tim couldn't think about that right now. First, he had to figure out how to get Jason out of here; get them both away from the family who would hunt them. Escape from the family that was said to be the best hunters ever to live.

They must disappear into the night before the brothers they loved, the father they admired, put bullets in their brains, believing them cursed.


End file.
